Sherlock Returns Home
by Emilehh
Summary: This is written time wise a few years after Reichenbach. Sherlock returns home, only to find John is married. Not slash, and this doesn't show them in a romantic light at all.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock sat on a bench across from the house, coat collar turned up against the wind. He'd been there for a while now. The house opposite belonged to John and Sarah Watson.

It had taken some time and after much deliberation and debating, he had decided that it would be safe to return to London, return to John. Sherlock had gone back to 221B Baker street, only to find Mrs Hudson on her own. She got the shock of her life when she saw him alive again, but she was very pleased. She made him a cup of tea and got him some biscuits, and they sat and chatted awhile.

Sherlock had asked after John, but Mrs Hudson told him that after Sherlock had 'died', John couldn't bear to be in the flat on his own any more, so he had moved in with Sarah. They had also got married, and they had had a child, a baby boy named Daniel.

Sherlock could see John through the window, throwing Daniel in the air and making him laugh. He sighed. He had missed John, though he would never admit it to himself, or to anybody else. By the looks of John, it looked as if John was over Sherlock's death, he had moved on and was happy. Sherlock was happy for him, of course.

"John is my- _was_ my best friend," he mentally corrected, standing up. This was it. He was going to walk up to the door, and reunite himself with John. He took one step forward...

And stopped. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Somewhere deep down inside Sherlock was the fear of rejection, fear of being rejected by the one person he could always rely on to put up with him and his eccentric ways. He sighed again, and turned away from the house. He walked past the window, and headed back to 221B.

As he walked past the house, John just happened to look out of the window.

He saw a tall, skinny shadow. He blinked, and it was gone again. He froze by the window a while, little Daniel tugging on his leg.

"Daddy, play more!" he demanded brightly.

"John?" asked Sarah in a caring tone, bringing John a cup of tea, and Daniel's night time bottle of warm milk. "John, what is it?"

"Oh, it's.. It's nothing. I thought... I thought I saw... You know. Him." He sat down, and pulled his son onto his lap. He tried not to think of Sherlock, but right now that was the only name in his mind. It wasn't that he had been _in_ love with Sherlock, it had never been anything like that, but he did love Sherlock. Sherlock was his crazy best friend, his work partner, and in some ways, his brother. They argued like an old married couple, and they could easily laugh together.

He pushed all of those thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on who were now the most important people in his life. His beautiful wife Sarah and his little boy, Daniel.

"Hey Sarah, you sit here. I'll take Daniel up, give him his bottle and get him to sleep, then I'll come back and make you a cuppa, yeah? You look tired, dear," John offered in a warm tone.

"That would be very nice, thank you love," Sarah said quietly. So John took Daniel up to bed.

Then, he made his way to the kitchen and made Sarah the cup of tea he had promised. When he put it in front of her, she looked up at him, her expression troubled.

"John?" she asked. "Are you okay? You can tell me you know. I know you miss him- you miss him so much- and I know it must be hard for you, but I'm always here."

"What would I do without you, eh, Mrs Sarah Watson?" he said fondly to her, tactfully avoiding the question.

"God only knows!" she exclaimed, and they sat giggling together, and John started to forget how he had felt only half hour ago.

Meanwhile, Sherlock returned to 221B, pushed his keys quietly into the lock as to not wake Mrs Hudson, and slowly opened the door. However, Mrs Hudson has waited for him.

"Sherlock, dear? How did it go?"

"I... I, for want of a better phrase, Mrs Hudson, I chickened out. I didn't have the first notion of what I would say to him, even if I did just go and announce I wasn't dead. What was I supposed to say? 'Hey John, not dead, want to go solve another crime?'. He... He looked so happy with her, Mrs Hudson, her and his baby. He could never have that whilst I was there. He never had a successful relationship, and he'd never say it, but it was because of me."

"Oh, Sherlock..." Mrs Hudson hugged him, and for the first time since being a little boy, Sherlock hugged back. He hadn't felt the need for human contact for so long, but Mrs Hudson was warm and so it was just a natural reaction. "Sherlock? Perhaps if John is so happy with his wife... Perhaps it's your turn," Mrs Hudson suggested.

"As I told John a long time ago, Mrs Hudson, I am married to my work," he replied, and he then went upstairs to his flat without another word.

**So there you have it! First chapter written. I'll update soon as I decide how they meet again (I have two ideas, possibly three) so until then, folks!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

Sherlock headed up the stairs to his flat, and pulled out his keys. He stopped. The amount of times John had struggled up those very stairs, carrying all the shopping he had gone to get, putting it all down to get out his keys, and swearing loudly when some of the shopping rolled back down the stairs. Even when Sherlock heard this, he didn't move from the kitchen, as he was conducting experiments for cases that just_ had _to be solved. How he regretted that now. He should of helped more, instead of leaving it all down to John. When it came down to it, Sherlock had depended on him. Whilst they had lived together, John had got the shopping, done the washing and reminded Sherlock to eat, as he often forgot. Even when Sherlock did, briefly, show his emotion for John, it was nothing more than a few words. "However", Sherlock said to himself, "how could I ever tell him just how much I.. I loved him?" Sherlock had never admitted to anyone, including himself, that he loved someone, be it romantically or the brotherly love he felt for John.

Sherlock shook his head. "No point thinking about the past. No more John now. Going to have to go it alone." He finally entered his flat. As he entered, there was two doorways. One to the right, and one to the left. The one on the right was John's room, and the left, Sherlock's room. Sherlock lingered for a minute outside John's room. He debated with himself about entering, but decided against it, as he wasn't sure he could take that level of accepting that John was gone.

Sherlock went into his own room, undressed and got into bed. He lay tossing and turning for a while, unsure if he should go to John's and see him. He eventually fell into an uneasy sleep. When he woke in the morning, he felt as if he hadn't slept at all. He yawned hugely, and then wrapped himself in his bedsheets and he walked into his lounge.

One thing Sherlock didn't expect to see was Lestrade. Lestrade was sitting in his lounge. "Lestrade? What.. How?" "Sherlock, don't panic. Mrs Hudson told me you was alive. I've kept it on the quiet though, as to avoid any... paparazzi." said Lestrade quickly. "Now, I know you haven't been back long, but I need help. It's a case. And seeing as you're back, there's a few cases that are, as yet, unsolved." "Ah. Okay. But... Aren't you like the rest of them? Don't you believe I'm a fraud?" Sherlock inquired tentatively. "Well", said Lestrade, "You see, I always had faith in you. I don't think you could ever pull any of that off without being what you are. That is to say, brilliant." "Well, thank you," said Sherlock, "But if the press find out I'm still alive... What will I do? If I do solve any cases and it does reach the papers, my name is not to be given, understood?" Sherlock told Lestrade. "Yes, Sherlock. We'll make everything smooth and easy for you to come back to us." Lestrade stood up to leave. "Oh and, Sherlock?" "Yes?" Sherlock inquired.

"Before you come to the station, put some clothes on." Lestrade turned on his heel and left. Sherlock smirked to himself. A memory, of himself and John sat in Buckingham Palace with him

in just a sheet had just popped into his mind. Oh, such faraway days...

Sherlock went back into his room and got himself dressed for the day, in his classic black suit as always, and his favourite purple shirt. It was a warm day, so no need for his long coat. "Hopefully" he thought to himself, "I can stay unnoticed." he went to ring a cab, stopped outside John's room for a moment, and the desire to enter overtook him again, but he resisted. He then rang a cab under a false name and left for Scotland Yard.

When he arrived at Scotland Yard, it was obvious all of the staff had, by now, been alerted that Sherlock was still alive. There wasn't any surprised looks, only those of disgust, as many obviously thought he was a fraud. Donovan, as always, had a cutting remark ready. "Oh, freaks back, so you're not dead then?" She said scathingly. "It appears not." Sherlock said simply. "Yes, yes, alright Donovan." Lestrade came over, with an armful of paper. "Cases. Unsolved. Take a look? Please?" Lestrade asked. "Well, why else am I here?" Sherlock said with a small smile.

**So there you have it, chapter two. I've decided what I'm going to do now with regards to how they meet again. I hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks to the people who added me to their story alert, and thank you to the person who added me to their favourite stories! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Sherlock arrived home from a long day at Scotland Yard. The cases had been _so _easy to solve, even Anderson could of done it. The only case that had any sort of substance to it was a case concerning a missing person, but this was soon rectified as Sherlock located him. Sherlock had a sneaking suspicion that Lestrade only asked him to come in to.. To see him. As a friend. "Lestrade counts me among his friends. Hm. Interesting." It struck Sherlock that actually, he also counted Greg a friend. However, the friend he wanted the most was currently blissfully unaware of his continued existence.

Sherlock had only just sat down when his mobile rang. "Freak, it's Donovan. Lestrade wants you to come with us to a scene. Car will be there in five." "Lestrade got you running his errands, Sally?" Sherlock asked with a slight, but poorly disguised laugh. Sally made a irritaited noise and hung up on him. "Finally, something _interesting_."

Really, what Sherlock wanted was a good case to get his teeth into, to distract him from his.. John issues. Sherlock pulled on his coat and stepped out of the door just as the car turned up. Sherlock got in and they drove off.

"Okay, details." Sherlock demanded. "Woman, 30's. Appears to of been murdered. Husband phoned us after getting back from a business trip. Baby boy also in house, he's fine." answered Lestrade without pausing for breath. "How long has she been dead and how long was the husband away?" Sherlock asked. "Well, we're not sure yet as he came back to her dead and the baby crying, and three days I think." Sally answered. "You think? Really, Sally, you should know the facts about one of your cases." Sally bit back a retort and stared onwards.

They arrived at the scene, and there was police tape everywhere. "That man there, Lestrade. He is clearly the woman's husband. Now, I can't question him in case he recognises me. Go over there and ask him these exact questions: Did he have any enemies, did his wife have any, and was there anyone who they had recently quarrelled with." "Um, sure, Sherlock." Lestrade answered tensely. "Please Lestrade, whilst we're in public, call me Alex." Lestrade nodded and headed over to the man.

Donovan strode off into the house, where she met Anderson. "Oh for goodness sakes, what is he doing here?" Sherlock said loudly. "Because believe it or not, I am a police officer and a forensic specialist!" Anderson unleashed a torrent of words onto Sherlock, who just looked coolly at him. "Yes, of course you are Anderson. Where's the body?" "Upstairs, in the woman's bedroom." As soon as Sherlock heard this he was off, up the stairs and in the bedroom in an instant. He analysed her quickly, dismissing 4 ideas and thinking of 3 more. "John?" Sherlock said aloud, and then in the same crushing instant it hit him John wasn't there. He sighed and stood up. He headed downstairs, told Lestrade it was definitely murder, and to get him the results of the autopsy when it was finished.

Sherlock hailed a cab and headed back to 221B. He went in through his door and collapsed onto the couch. He realised he didn't remember the last time he had eaten. John had usually taken care of that, and whilst he had been 'dead', he had been staying at his Mother's estate, where a maid brought food to him regardless of if he wanted it or not, but it was always there if he did. He roused himself to go into the kitchen and opened the cupboards. Thankfully for Sherlock, Mrs Hudson had stocked him up with plenty of food. He got out some bread and made himself some toast. "This is breaking my own rules, eating on a case, but it has to be done" he consoled himself. He sat down at the kitchen table. He munched thoughtfully on toast as he considered the facts about the case. He knew she had definitely been murdered, and considering the lack of firearms or other external methods, it must be a poison of some sort. He hated waiting, and he had to wait for the autopsy. He hoped that Molly would have it finished soon. As Molly came to mind, he remembered the last time they met. She was faking his death for him. She was one of the only people to know he was still alive. She hadn't told anyone, and she had done all that he asked, despite his sometimes below the belt comments and his general attitude towards her. "Oh Molly, in love with a socio path. You silly silly girl." he sighed to himself, and he stood up, and checked his phone. Nothing new, so he headed to bed. More thoughts of what to do about John plagued his thoughts, and it was another sleepless night for Sherlock.

When he awoke, Mrs Hudson had brought up a paper. The headline read: SCOTLAND YARD CRIME SOLVING IS ON THE UP. Sherlock grabbed the paper, and began to read. 'An unnamed detective has been called in to help the police with their cases, much in the style of fraud Sherlock Holmes.' That was all Sherlock had bothered to read. It was a little risky, that people might guess, but after all, he was 'dead'. No one would find him.

At around the same time, John Watson was reading this article. As he read the words 'Sherlock Holmes', he stopped. He considered the possibility that... No. No. He couldn't be. "Sherlock is dead, you fool." He told himself. But even though he kept telling himself that, he had this niggle that he should go to 221B and just see. Just see if he was there. "Sarah, I'm going out." "Oh, okay.. John, are you okay?" Sarah questioned him, but John swept out of the house without uttering another word.

**PS I know I'm updating a lot so quickly, but this story is just bursting out! Thanks to everyone for adding me to their lists and such. **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

John hailed a cab, and got in. "221B Baker street, please." he requested of the driver, and he drove off. It was a short journey but to John it felt like hours. John paid the driver and stepped out of the car. He walked up to the front door of 221B and, with slightly trembling hands (unusual for John, who could shoot a man dead with not so much as a shake) he lifted the keys of the house, the ones he had kept, and slowly opened the door. Luckily for him, Mrs Hudson was out, so she didn't hear anything. John took a steadying breath and headed upstairs.

Sherlock heard footsteps on the stairs and froze. He knew Mrs Hudson was out, so he had no idea who it could be. But, once he heard the keys going into his door and turning around, there was only one person it could be. He stood up, and waited. "John." he said simply. John greeted him with no words, apart from a right hook. "I suppose.. I suppose I deserved that." "Deserved it? DESERVED IT?" John yelled. "I HAVE THOUGHT YOU WAS DEAD FOR TWO YEARS, SHERLOCK." "John, let me explain. Please." "I.. Okay." "Well, basically if I didn't kill myself Moriarty was going to have his henchmen kill you, Lestrade, Molly and Mrs Hudson. How could I let that happen? So, I did. Or at least I let him think I did." "So... You're back, then. Back in London. I suppose this 'unnamed detective' in the papers is you, Sherlock?" "The very same." Sherlock said with a smile. "I was worried other people might guess it was me, but most people aren't as clever as you." "I did spend a while living with you, Sherlock. You do pick things up." John replied with a small smile playing on his face too. Without warning, John strode over to Sherlock, and grabbed him in a fierce embrace. Sherlock hesitated, then hugged John back. He thought John might become offended if he didn't. Also, he didn't want to lose John again now he had him back. "I've missed you, Sherlock." John said in a gruff tone. "And.. And I you, John." Sherlock replied stiffly.

A few hours later, John and Sherlock were sat in Sherlock's -and John's old- lounge, having a cup of tea and a chat. "Sherlock, have you told Mycroft you're still alive?" John inquired. "No.. I haven't. Why?" Sherlock asked. "Well, he might offer to clear your name. You never know." "John, this is Mycroft we're talking about. There's no love lost between us. Why would he do something like that for me? No John, I shall not see him. I do not wish to ever see him again, to be quite honest." John was surprised. He had never heard Sherlock talk about his brother like that. He knew they didn't always see eye to eye, but he didn't expect that sort of reaction. "But" he supposed, "if he claims to not feel love for anyone I suppose it has to be replaced by something." "So! You haven't told me anything about Sarah and your son!" seeing the confused look on John's face, he quickly said "Mrs Hudson." "Ah. Fair enough. Well, you've met her, of course... We got married July 2012. Daniel was born November 2012, he's two now. Getting to the stage of demanding everything." John said with a smile. "Sherlock... Would you like to come to my house? To meet them?" "John I... I don't know if that's a good idea. I can't imagine Sarah is best pleased after what I did to you." "Perhaps not, but she knows I missed you and I think she'd rather me happy than bear grudges." "Well then. It's only 1 o clock, and Sarah must be wondering where you are." "You're right. Shall we go then, Sherlock?" "I'll just get my coat, and then, yes John." Sherlock replied. He went into his bedroom, got his phone and checked his messages. He had a voice message from Lestrade saying the results of the case on the murdered woman was in. Sherlock was torn between the station and John, but he knew in his heart it would be unwise for him not to go to John's. He couldn't afford to ruin this with John. So, they got a cab and left for John's.

**Well there's chapter four! I hope you're all enjoying the story, and I hope you think I've captured Sherlock well and haven't made him too 'cuddly'. Thanks again for reading :)**


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